


The One Unknown

by Akumeoi



Category: The One Unspoken - Sarah Bryant
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, First Meetings, Fluff, Musicians
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-22
Updated: 2020-05-22
Packaged: 2021-03-03 02:02:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,584
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24326965
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Akumeoi/pseuds/Akumeoi
Summary: Gabriel has been waiting so long to attend a performance of up-and-coming pianist Sidonie Verdier's new piece,The One Unknown. But thanks to a series of unfortunate accidents and mismanagement by the concert hall staff, the performance is delayed on opening night due to the absence of a solo violinist. Gabriel himself is an amateur violinist, but there's no way he's good enough to perform withtheSidonie Verdier - right?
Relationships: Sidonie Verdier/Gabriel Saint-Martin
Comments: 3
Kudos: 1





	The One Unknown

**Author's Note:**

  * For [glittercracker](https://archiveofourown.org/users/glittercracker/gifts).



> "The One Unspoken" is a novel by Sarah Bryant. It was released in 2020. [Here's the Goodreads page.](https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/36618138-the-one-unspoken)
> 
> Funnily enough, I have now fulfilled my New Year's resolution twice in the span of two weeks - this is my second work posted in 2020 that's the first in its respective fandom tag. This is also my first ever book fanfic to be posted to AO3, which was another of my resolutions.
> 
> Comments always welcome! :)

The audience was getting restless. The concert had been due to start 25 minutes ago and there was still no sign of renowned pianist Sidonie Verdier, nor her evening’s co-star, violinist Armand Fourzac. Sitting in the middle of the audience with his sisters, Virginie and Christiane, Gabriel fretfully watched the unmoving velvet curtain onstage and worried that something might have happened – an accident, perhaps. As the audience chattered around him, he sank lower in his seat. This was Ms. Verdier’s first performance in the States, and the only one that was anywhere near to Gabriel. If she didn’t play tonight, he would have missed his chance to see her perform her newest piece, _The One Unknown_ , before she returned to her native Scotland.

“Cheer up, Gabri,” said Christiane, drawing his attention away from the stage. “I’m sure it’ll start any minute now.”

Gabriel hoped she was right. But as she was saying this, a man walked onto the stage – the manager of the theatre. The house lights dimmed until the audience fell silent.

“Ladies and gentlemen, I deeply apologise for the delay. Unfortunately, Mr. Fourzac was involved in an accident on the way to the theatre and will be unable to perform tonight. We are attempting to find a replacement as we speak. We do request that you remain in your seats, but now might be a good time to use the restroom. Thank you so much for your patience.”

With that, he quickly left the stage. Moans of boredom and annoyance filled the hall, and the rumble of conversation started up again as the concert-goers reacted to the news.

“He didn’t even tell us when the concert would start. We could be sitting here for hours, and the orchestra isn’t even playing. The reviews were right. This concert hall _is_ mismanaged.” Although Virginie supported Gabriel’s musical hobby and his interest in Ms. Verdier’s music, she still had high standards.

“How hard can it be to find a replacement violinist?” Christiane said. “Gabri’s been practicing _The One Unknown_ all week.”

It was true. After Ms. Verdier’s European tour had ended and before the American one had been announced, she’d made the sheet music for the piece available to buy online. Gabriel had purchased it for the princely sum of 50$. Although he’d started practicing it as soon as he had received the sheet music several months ago, he had truly devoted himself to it this past week in his excitement for this concert. He had wanted to study the nuances of it so he’d be able to truly appreciate them when Ms. Verdier and Mr. Fourzac performed it.

“I probably have it memorised by now,” Gabriel commented ruefully. He could hear the thread of the song in his mind and ached for it to become real.

To Gabriel’s shock, a woman who was sitting a few seats away in the row behind him stood up and shouted, “This man is a violinist and he knows the music!” She waved her arms towards him. “Mister usher, over here!”

Gabriel just stared for a moment until Virginie elbowed him in the side.

“Uh, no, I’m couldn’t –” Gabriel stammered. But by then the usher was already moving towards them, and he knew it was too late. The girl sitting behind Gabriel sat down again with a smug expression which seemed to say, “My job here is done.”

“Sir,” the usher said, gesturing politely to the aisle to indicate Gabriel should step out of his seat. As Gabriel stood, he shot a helpless glance at his two sisters. Virginie seemed to be trying to communicate something to him with her eyes and the set of her head alone, unwilling to speak up and continue causing a scene. Christiane had her fists clenched and was leaning towards him, her eyes shining with excitement.

“Go, Gabri!” she encouraged him in a loud whisper. Caught between Virignie’s stare and Christiane’s enthusiasm, Gabriel quietly followed the usher backstage. Gabriel was anxious, anticipating disappointing everyone by being but an amateur. He was just a medical resident, for pity’s sake. True, he had given performances at recitals before, but playing for a dozen music students and their friends and families was different from playing for a full auditorium of strangers.

Backstage, the usher took Gabriel straight to the manager. “A potential replacement violinist from the audience,” the usher said.

Before Gabriel could say a word, the manager said, “The understudy and the person I was considering to replace her have been sleeping together and gave each other the flu, and I have been making useless phone calls for the past half hour. My God! Sir, if you are at all competent, you will have saved the show for us.”

“I’m afraid I’m – I mean, I’m not a professional,” Gabriel said haltingly.

“Come, at least give Ms. Verdier the chance to decide if she would like to play with you,” the host pleaded. “The audience has come to hear _The One Unknown_ and it would be a disgrace if we had to drop it and perform only Chopin instead.”

Gabriel was instantly conflicted. He was being taken to see Sidonie Verdier. _Sidonie Verdier_! What he wouldn’t give to have five minutes alone with her, to tell her how much her music had touched his soul. Then he realised: they were going to make him play the violin for Sidonie Verdier. What he was apparently _going_ to give to have five minutes alone with her was the whole of his dignity.

“Excuse me, I –” Gabriel started, but the manager was already opening the door into a dressing room and ushering Gabriel in.

There she was, sitting in front of the makeup desk and looking distinctly unimpressed: Sidonie Verdier. Even though he recognised her from pictures, Gabriel could hardly believe that it was really her. Photographs had captured her long blonde hair, her slim build, her grey eyes. But they could never have shown how that hair rippled and shone in waves of silvery gold, how those eyes gave the impression of silver and reminded him of rain. He was surprised at how strong the urge was to touch her hair. He never would have expected that of himself and felt even more embarrassed because of it.

Sidonie’s eyes narrowed as if she were studying him.

“And who’s this? Have you found me a replacement violinist?”

“Gabriel Saint-Martin,” Gabriel said, politely holding out his hand to shake hers. Her fingers were slim but strong, as was only to be expected of the artist that she was. “But I – I have no violin, I – I came here as a member of the audience –”

“A violin, please. Surely we must have a spare around here somewhere,” Sidonie said to the manager, who immediately left the room. Turning to Gabriel, Sidonie shook her head. “This place is a mess,” she said ruefully, and Gabriel nodded in fervent agreement. “I had been hoping for a smooth start to my tour in America, but alas.”

“Ms. Verdier –” Gabriel started.

“Sidonie,” she interrupted. “If we are to play together, however briefly, we might as well be on first name terms.”

“Sidonie,” Gabriel tried again, feeling rather desperate, “I’ve been practicing this piece, but I’m just a fan. There was a woman sitting behind me in the audience, and, well – I suppose it doesn’t matter, but I’m really not qualified for this at all.”

Sidonie – was he really on first-name basis with his favourite composer? – fixed Gabriel with that same appraising gaze. She sighed. “Please give it a try?” she said. “The way things are going, I’m not sure I trust them to dig up anyone more experienced. It’s only the one piece – the rest of the concert is all classical except for the finale, and _The One Unspoken_ has no violin solo.”

It was at that moment that the door to the dressing room was hastily thrust open and the manager re-entered, brandishing a violin.

“Here!” he declared, shoving the violin at Gabriel, who took it. “Well?”

Gabriel looked at Sidonie, who nodded at him. Gabriel tucked the violin under his chin and mechanically raised the bow. This violin was a little lighter than the one he had at home, looked and felt a little older and more worn, but also of much higher pedigree. Letting out a deep breath, Gabriel somehow managed to play the first few bars of _The One Unknown_.

“And you know the rest?” Sidonie said, although she didn’t sound as if she particularly doubted it.

Gabriel skipped to a bit in the middle and played that, then played a part he remembered from the ending. Sidonie watched and listened attentively, head cocked to one side so that her long, loose hair fell over her shoulder in glorious waves. “I would appreciate a page turner, though,” Gabriel said, wondering if he had lost his mind to actually be considering going on stage. Virginie was going to kill him.

“Certainly, certainly,” said the manager. “So it’s settled?” He looked expectantly between Gabriel and Sidonie.

“ _If_ Mr. Saint-Martin is amenable,” Sidonie said pointedly, “I would be happy to perform with him.”

The both of them looked at Gabriel, the manager with expectance and Sidonie with a gentle smile that reassured him that she really would accept whatever he decided with no hard feelings. Yes, Virginie would kill him for doing this, and Gabriel knew he was totally out of his depth – but would he really pass up this opportunity to play a duet with Sidonie Verdier? Maybe before having met her in person, he would have refused, but now... some part of him he didn’t understand was compelling him to accept, and his logical brain was justifying it as the desire to capitalise on a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.

“I’ll do it,” he said, looking only at Sidonie. Her smile widened in gratitude and relief.

“Ah, wonderful!” the manager said, grabbing Gabriel by the arm and towing him out of the dressing room. Sidonie followed, looking suddenly quite serious.

 _What have I done?_ Gabriel thought to himself as he was led to the stage, where the remainder of the orchestra was waiting. It was difficult to see in the gloom behind the still-closed curtains, but from the sighs and mutters the musicians were giving he surmised that they were just as bored as the audience outside. He could make out that there was a music stand in front of him and that the people sitting near him were definitely turning their heads to look at him. The manager departed to speak with the conductor, and Gabriel’s head spun. Another man arrived with a folding chair and sat down beside him – the promised page turner. Then, the lights went on and the curtains opened, and Gabriel found himself looking out over a sea of dark silhouettes.

The conductor began introducing the performance, but Gabriel didn’t retain a single word. Looking out over that crowded auditorium, his heart beat in his chest and his breathing came faster.

Just as he was beginning to panic, soft, familiar notes begin to play. Directly opposite him onstage, seated behind a grand piano, Sidonie was playing the opening bars to _The One Unknown_. Immediately, all of Gabriel’s focus was drawn to the piano. For it was the piano that opened this song, soft and tentative, seeking, eyes opening and first steps being taken into an unfamiliar, soft and quiet world.

With shaking hands, Gabriel put his bow to the strings. The violin was to come in strong, a lonely call but a sure one. He listened to the piano, which he had heard a thousand times in recordings before but which suddenly sounded so different, so close, so alive. The page-turner jabbed a finger at the sheet-music in front of him, and Gabriel began to play.

The first notes sounded, to his ears, uncertain and timid, very different to the original strong violin entry he had always practised before. But as he began to play, the music slipped over him and began to carry him along in its stream. His strokes grew more certain, and the violin sang out.

It was a song about searching, but not even know that you were looking, let alone what for; hands outstretched and reaching in the dark, green vines twining and seeking the sun in a murky, endless forest. Gabriel loved it because something in its yearning spoke to his heart, because it gave him a different image every time he heard it but always the same feeling, and because it was beautiful.

As Gabriel played, he found himself hardly needing to glance at the sheet music at all. The piano urged him along, and his fear slipped away as he gave himself over to the sound. If the orchestra was playing with them, he could not hear it. (It was, minimally – muted strings and woodwinds, the occasional chiming percussion.) He had ears only for the entwining of the piano and the violin, the conversation they were holding and the story they were telling between them, the way they were different and the way they were the same.

New dimensions began to open in the song, and he a colourblind man given colour, a sighted man given synaesthesia. Gabriel felt like he was flying, knew he was being carried by something greater than just muscle memory, that some of those new dimensions were being opened up by him but not at all by his doing. It was the power of playing with the artist who had written the song, the power of the moment. Without a doubt, this was the best performance he’d ever given or would ever give in his life.

As the song wound to a close, there was an immediate sense of loss, even as a part of him was roaring with glory. Gabriel held the last note for as long as he could, unwilling to just let it die away. The audience applauded loudly, but Gabriel barely even noticed – he was thinking only of the music he had just played. Out of breath, he glanced over at Sidonie and saw that she was smiling at him, as composed as she had been when the piece had started – but it seemed to him that she was somehow glowing.

“Gabriel Saint-Martin!” the conductor announced, ushering Gabriel forward to give his bows. Although he dearly wished to stay on the stage and play for longer, or at least remain close enough to the music that he felt he was within it, he had no choice but to leave as the audience’s applause died away.

Backstage, Gabriel handed off the loaned violin to a crew member who was standing by, then followed an usher back to his seat. The next song – something by Chopin – was just beginning as he sat down beside Virginie again.

“Gabri, that was _amazing_ ,” Virginie whispered, squeezing his hand.

“I recorded it!” Christiane whispered excitedly.

“It’s against the rules,” Virginie said, but her mouth curled up into a smile.

“Thank you,” Gabriel said sincerely to Christiane, knowing he absolutely had to listen to the recording later. But for the moment he was content to sit in his seat in the darkened theatre, heartbeat returning to normal, enraptured by the classical music that was being played onstage. 

At the intermission, Christiane and Virginie peppered Gabriel with questions that he was barely able to answer. What was Sidonie Verdier like? Beautiful, captivating, but he omitted those two words and simply stated his respect for her, which they had heard from him many times before. What was it like being on stage? Scary, but he hadn’t noticed, really. And most of all, how had he played so well? Gabriel had no real answer to that. Now that the experience was over, he was tempted to describe it as simply “magical”.

The performance concluded with _The One Unspoken_ , Sidonie’s first major composition, which was inspired by her family history and some unfinished sheet music from an ancestor several generations removed. Listening to Sidonie play music by other composers was like listening to someone sing covers of someone else’s songs, putting their own style and voice into the piece to bring out a certain feeling and make it their own; but listening to her play her own music was to hear her own words. Listening to _The One Unspoken_ , Gabriel found himself with tears in his eyes.

After the concert was over, the concert-goers began to rise from their seats, chattering and laughing, pulling on light jackets for the spring evening as they made their way to the door. A few of them stopped by the row Gabriel was sitting in to congratulate him on the performance. Gabriel accepted their congratulations with polite thanks, but inwardly he was still reeling. The whole evening, so long awaited, gone just like that. And yet, _what_ an evening. Gabriel ached, knowing that after this Sidonie would return to Scotland and he would never get the chance to play with her again.

“Come on,” Virginie said gently, putting her hand on Gabriel’s arm. Most of the concert hall was empty by now and it was definitely time to go, no matter how much he wished he didn’t have to.

He was walking up the aisle towards the exit with his sisters when he heard someone call his name. Turning, he saw Sidonie drop from the stage to the ground, land with nary a stumble, then run up the aisle towards him.

“Gabriel,” she said, slightly out of breath. “I’m glad I caught you. That was an incredible performance.”

Behind him, Virginie tugged Christiane into the lobby.

“Really?” Gabriel said. He knew it had been exceptional for _him_ , but hadn’t been expecting the praise from Sidonie herself. “I admire your work so much. It’s always resonated with me. I can’t believe I’m getting the chance to tell you this in person, but you’re my favourite composer. Of all time.”

Sidonie laughed, a friendly laugh that invited him to smile, too. “I think there was a little of that in your playing,” she said. “No one who didn’t love that song would play it with the passion that you did. But thank you. When I started composing, I never dreamed I’d be anyone’s favourite anything.” She frowned. “I’m rather critical of myself, actually. But after tonight, I can at least say I made something perfect once.”

Sidonie looked shyly up at him. “In fact... a part of me believes I wrote that violin part especially for you.”

Gabriel was shocked, even as he felt in his bones that Sidonie was right – _of course_ he had ended up playing with her here tonight – there was no other possible way the course of history could have flowed. “For me? But you didn’t even know I existed when you wrote it.”

Sidonie smiled a secret smile, as if she knew something he didn’t. But then again, it was her music, so she probably did. “It was a feeling I got when we were performing. It’s hard to describe. But no other soloist has made me feel like that, and I doubt any other could.”

“I’ve never played it like that before, either,” Gabriel admitted. “I’m sure it was because I was performing with you.”

“Will you be attending any of my other concerts in America?” Sidonie asked.

“Unfortunately, no. I’m a medical resident – I don’t have much free time to travel,” Gabriel said, crestfallen at the reminder.

“Then,” Sidonie said, “you will have to give me your phone number and we shall see where it goes from there.”

Hardly able to believe his luck, Gabriel got out his phone and exchanged numbers with Sidonie. As he was taking his phone back, the manager appeared from backstage and called, “Ms. Verdier!” He gestured at the stage to indicate that she was wanted in her dressing room.

Sidonie sighed and muttered to Gabriel. “That man has been nothing but trouble – although I suppose I should thank him for being so incompetent that he somehow facilitated us to meet. There’s the true miracle.”

Gabriel laughed, and he could see the amusement in Sidonie’s eyes.

“Keep in touch, alright?” Sidonie said. “We have far from played our last duet – I hope.”

“Of course,” Gabriel promised, knowing with all his heart that those words were so far from empty they were overflowing. “Take care,” he said earnestly, looking into her eyes. For a moment, some unspoken communication seemed to pass between them, a flash of lightning that went right to Gabriel’s heart. She took his hand in hers, squeezed it, and then she was gone with a wave of farewell. Gabriel watched her go, her long blonde hair rippling down her back, until the manager cleared his throat and gave Gabriel a look that told him he should retreat to the lobby with the rest of the riffraff.

As he left the concert hall, Gabriel was silent despite Christiane’s continued questions, turning the evening’s events over in his head. His phone in his pocket with Sidonie’s number safely contained within it was a presence he couldn’t stop being aware of. His fingers tingled where Sidonie had so briefly clasped them in hers. In that moment, Gabriel knew that to him, Sidonie Verdier would never again be just a marvellous composer. She was a brilliant light who had captured his whole heart, and he hoped that she was right that one day they would meet again.

THE END


End file.
